


Migraine

by taylor_tut



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Sick Character, Sick Richie Tozier, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 03:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21206528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Very original title. A fic from my tumblr in response to a request for Richie with a migraine and Eddie helping him.





	Migraine

Eddie was barely listening to Mike explain why he'd called them here and why they needed to be together to defeat whatever this was. He knew that there was something about a ritual they needed to do, something about totems they'd lost or hidden or whatever, but if anyone had asked him a question, he wouldn't have been able to answer it, because his focus was, against his will, on Richie, who looked almost asleep on the palm of his hand leaning against the hotel bar. 

Apparently Eddie wasn't the only one who was watching Richie and wondering why his eyes were closed through what was undoubtedly the most unsettling and morbidly interesting thing he'd probably heard in his life, because Mike's speech was interrupted by Bill barking out a sharp, diciplinary, "Richie!" 

Richie stirred but didn't open his eyes or pick his head up. Instead, he grunted a little. "What?" he mumbled irritably. "M'listening."

Eddie had noticed something was off since a little after breakfast that morning, but he didn't want to say something, lest he be accused of worrying about him. Richie would, under normal circumstances, have given him hell about that, but Eddie was beginning to wonder now if he would even care, as he seemed more asleep than awake. Maybe, like the rest of them, he'd been up all night, or maybe he was jet-lagged and being a baby about it. However, the little voice in the back of his head reminded him that Richie, while not above whining about things, was very very rarely quiet, even in the worst of his moods. If he was tired, he'd be complaining and drinking straight out of the coffee pot; if he was upset, he'd be making passive-aggressive jokes. The near-silence was insidious and he was surprised that he was seemingly the only one to feel that way. 

"Not well enough," Mike argued. "I need your full attention. This is important, and I don't have time to explain it twice."

"Why do I need to be looking at you to be listening?" Richie challenged, earning himself a glare that he didn't open his eyes to see. 

Eddie wanted badly to ask what was wrong, if he was feeling okay, but he pushed the urge down for his own peace of mind.

"Richie," Mike sighed, and Richie pried his eyes open irritably. 

"I'm listening," he repeated. "I'm just keeping my eyes shut because my head is pounding and the lights in here are gonna make me puke if I have to keep looking at them. If that sounds good to you, then by all means, keep yelling at me." 

Mike frowned, looking equal parts scolded and confused, but Eddie was quick to cut in before he could continue his speech. 

"You still get migraines?"

Richie actually cracked an eye open to look at him scrutinizingly. "Still?" he asked, as if he didn't know what Eddie was talking about. 

"Well, yeah," Eddie replied. "I mean, you used to get them all the time. Really bad." 

Richie pressed the palm of his hand firmly into his eye socket, a gesture that Eddie remembered as a tell that the migraine was especially bad and that he should be prepared for him to throw up or pass out. 

"I don't remember." 

Eddie couldn't believe that. "Seriously?" he questioned. "You were getting them all the time. Sometimes they got so bad we had to take you to the ER for a shot Imitrex. They were a huge reason you left Derry." 

Richie did open his eyes now, and the misery in them was practically visible, but so was the moment that he remembered what Eddie was talking about. 

“Well, I’ll be fucked,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I forgot about that.” 

In all honesty, it hadn’t been until this moment that Eddie himself had remembered that it was Richie who’d had the migraines. When he’d first started dating Myra, back at the very beginning when things were fun and good and healthy, she’d gotten migraines, too. The first time Eddie took care of her, draping a wet washrag over her eyes and pressing that pressure point on her soft, delicate hand that made the pain seem to melt away just a little, she’d asked him where he’d learned that. He hadn’t been able to tell her exactly who it was who’d gotten them, so he’d just told her that someone he’d cared about very much and whom he’d hated to see in pain had used to get them often. The name being on the tip of his tongue had bothered him for the rest of the night, but the more he tried to focus on it, the further the memory had seemed to fade from his mind. He’d gone to bed early that night with a bad headache of his own. 

“Come on,” Eddie instructed, reaching for Richie’s hands and ignoring his protests as he stood him up and pointed him in the direction of the couch so as to avoid making him walk up the stairs. 

“Eddie, we don’t have time for this,” Mike objected, but Bill shook his head. Even when he barely knew what he was talking about, he always seemed to have the last word. 

“You said yourself we’ve g-g-got to fight this thing together,” he pointed out, “and there’s n-no way Richie can do it like this.” 

Mike hesitated, but under the pleading looks of the Losers, he caved and sighed. 

“Fine,” he gave in, “but I’m capping the break at two hours. This is just too important.” 

Eddie nodded. He could fix Richie up enough in two hours. Bev, seeming to remember the nights they’d spent in the clubhouse to avoid sending Richie home to be in pain with no one to really look after him, went to the kitchen to fill a Ziplock bag with ice for Richie’s eyes. 

“I’m going to run out for some diet cola and peppermint oil,” Eddie announced quietly as he covered Richie with a blanket, smiling sympathetically as he pulled the fabric immediately over his eyes. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time.” 

That was going to be true whether Richie felt better or not, unfortunately. 


End file.
